


Feelings of the Mind, Thoughts of the Heart

by BrainlessGenius



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Crying, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Has Feelings, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders is Bad at Feelings, M/M, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius
Summary: Prompt:  “sad Logan crying into stuffed animal but then stuffed animal hugs back and then he realizes it’s either Roman or Remus”~Logan hated the fact that he was reacting this intensely to something he was already used to. Even if the tears compromised his vision, he really should’ve been more careful when sinking down…
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 124





	Feelings of the Mind, Thoughts of the Heart

Logan would rather fade than admit that he was _this_ close to breaking. 

He didn’t mean the kind that made his face heat up or his nostrils flare while his taut knuckles shook at his side and his teeth clashed with each other. Though he might have just preferred that. Unfortunately when Logan said “breaking,” he meant it in a way that left an uncomfortable mini-hurricane wreaking havoc within his ribcage while he tried his hardest to contain it inside. 

Logan’s entire frame shook from the effort it took to maintain his composure in front of his fellow sides; not that they were paying attention in the first place, anyway. He didn’t really quite understand why he was having such a reaction right _now_ when this blatant disregard for him, this… this _ignorance_ was something he encountered every single day.

And so he left.

He was willing to bet that no one even noticed him sinking out. If they did, they probably would have just chalked it off to his reputation for having such a short fuse. He could barely make out the room around him as he blindly made his way towards the bed; the tears welling up in his eyes doing nothing to help his vision. He never remembered the bed being that far from his door before, nor his floor being carpeted and soft enough that it silenced his footsteps, but that was the least of his concerns.

If he could scold himself, he would. He felt pathetic and weak and emotional and _disgusting_ as he closed his eyes and released the contents of his tear ducts the second he came into contact with the unrealistic softness of the bed. Eyes still wrenched shut, Logan leaned forward, desperate to find any form of solace or comfort; or at the very least anything he could use to muffle his cries. He felt very much like the polar opposite of logic as his damp forehead finally came into contact with an unidentifiable something, his glasses pushing uncomfortably against the frame of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. 

His vision stayed dark as he forced himself to take any semblance of logic he could. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he buried his face into the smooth, fragrant fabric of this… pillow? Curtain? Blanket? Sheet? Stuffed toy? He wasn’t exactly certain. All that mattered was that he was Logan. Logical, calculated, reserved, put-together, proper, objective Logan; and crying was not something the embodiment of logic should be doing. So he stayed there doing his best to muffle his cries, never daring to open his eyes. He hiccupped, gasped, and heaved in the lowest volume he could. He fisted his hands on the sheets below him and held his mouth as tight as he could. 

Logan tried remembering methods of calming an individual down. They could point out all his errors, but he would never allow them to take his identity from him. He scoured the filing cabinets of his mind ‘till he found a suitable suggestion. Focus. He needed to focus. Logan zeroed in on the feeling of the cloth in his hand. He let it slide through his fingers as he crumpled it, allowing his fingertips to recognize the material – satin. Wait… satin? His sheets weren’t satin. His sheets were cotton. The thin kind of cotton that felt cool against his skin, comfortable and not all at once. 

He internally winced as a particularly loud sob pushed past his lips, and so he put his focus back on the softness he was leaning on. It simultaneously felt all too cold but oh, so warm. It smelled of flowers; of chrysanthemums and daffodils swaying along a gentle breeze. He took the hand on his mouth away and placed it on the material in front of him. He rubbed the cloth on his fingertips and identified it as… _silk_. But that… didn’t make sense. Not at all. As he brought up hypotheses in his head and sifted through possibilities, he felt a little pinprick of dread. He looked back on all the little pieces. The carpeted floor, the distance of the bed, the satin sheets and the silky material of–

All the thoughts died down like a flat-lining cardiogram when he felt a tentative hand rub against his back.

Logan dared to lift his forehead off the comfortable something to open his eyes, breath hitching in the process, and all he saw was _red_. There were many, many shades of red. There was maroon, rose, cherry, garnet, scarlet, currant, and a whole variety more that probably didn’t even have proper names. But Logan recognized the rich crimson of this red all too well; knew how the familiar color matched perfectly with the smoothness of the silk. He’d be an imbecile if he didn’t recognize Roman’s sash by now.

And maybe he already was, considering he made it this far without realizing he sank down into the wrong room. And maybe he was _more_ than just an imbecile for forgetting that Roman had not been summoned for this session, and that’s why he wasn’t up there with the others at the moment. Maybe he was positively _beyond_ an imbecile if he’d been cryi– _trying_ to stop himself from crying against _Roman_ that entire time.

Logan shot up, consequentially bumping Roman’s hand away, his probably red eyes looking at the prince’s own wide irises, creased forehead, and damp sash through fogged up spectacles.

“Roman! I– I deeply apologize. I had not realized– I should’ve checked first– It was faulty of me to sink down into the wrong room I apologize greatly, I–”

His stream of words and possibly his airflow were cut off by the same hand coming to rest on Logan’s shoulder and Roman’s eyes looking back at him with such an indistinguishable amount of emotion locked up inside the hues of his iris.

“Logan, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Really.”

He… what? He didn’t mind what?

“I– I don’t understand–”

Roman’s brows only furrowed further and the hand squeezed his shoulder just the slightest bit harder. “Logan. _Let go_.”

For a long stretch of time they simply sat facing each other, one cross-legged on the bed and the other with his knees folded in; waiting for… _anything_ to happen. But nothing needed to happen because the sheer weight of Roman’s words digging into Logan’s chest and the warmth of his hand seeping through his black polo was enough to break cracks into the meticulously put up walls around his heart.

It started with a singular sob and a hand unconsciously flying to his mouth. When Roman gently took that hand off Logan’s lips and held it within his own, the walls crumbled down.

This cry was far from the soft, held-back sobs from minutes ago. This one was loud, messy, hoarse, pitiful, and _ugly_. Before he knew it, his eyes were back closed as he shuddered and snivelled before the fanciful side who was more than willing to take the logical side in his arms. 

Roman scooted closer to Logan, allowing him to melt and break within the embrace, both uncaring for the mess it’ll leave on the prince’s clothes. He continued to run his hands in circles on Logan’s back, making every hicc and whimper heard. It terrified Logan, honestly; opening up to someone like this, making every vulnerability known and presenting his lowest points for all the world, or Roman in this case, to see. The terror was suffocating, the shame was unbearable, and the regret was overwhelming, but Logan couldn’t stop the tears even if he tried.

A long, soft, gentle shush came from Roman as one of his hands lightly set on the back of Logan’s head; his fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands. The shush soon turned into a low hum, and Logan found himself drowning in the waves of Roman’s voice. He recognized the tune, even as he bawled the eyes out of his muddy brain. It was a piece by Chopin– _Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2_. The dynamics and the anatomy of the piece often took Logan’s breath away as it did, but something about the fact that it was _Roman_ , Roman who always seemed to strike every chord and make anything sound infinitely more pleasing made the composition sound like an entirely different thing. It wasn’t perfect, no; as the human voice can never truly replicate the delicate sounds of the piano. But the lullaby-esque hum still resonated just as sweetly in Logan’s mind and sent ripples of comfort in his chest that spread to the rest of him. 

And when the last sigh finally left Logan’s lungs, and he finally had the energy to lift his head back up to meet the prince’s eyes once more, he found he felt lighter than he ever did before. He thought maybe that’s what releasing approximately months or years worth of locked up sentiments within an hour did to an individual. Perhaps that hypothesis could be put on hold ‘till another opportunity.

Later that day they’d talk about that. They’d discuss the sheer ridiculousness of Logan stumbling into the wrong room, Logan mistaking Roman for a stuffed toy, and Roman letting all of it happen without complaint. They’d talk, share, and open up about insecurities, sensitivities, exhaustion, and frustration. They’d exchange “thank you’s,” “sorry’s,” but also laughter and banter. Later in the day they’d take a long, much-needed walk in the imagination while they poked fun at the other sides and named every creature they encountered and every flower they walked past by.

But for now they were here, in Roman’s room, with a tissue box being handed over by a Roman who had a hint of a genuine smile grazing his lips to a swollen-eyed Logan whose face was caked with dry tears.

For now, Logan was glad he stumbled into the wrong room. For now, Logan allowed himself to be a little less than who he was.

For now, Logan allowed himself not to think, but to _feel._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing okay! Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. Follow me on Tumblr [@nerdy-emo-royal-dad](https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com/)!. Stay safe, fams! <3


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